


i wrote the gospel (on giving up)

by soapyconnor



Series: Dire Straits [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, animal-people Au, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9835877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: Ever since François was a little boy, there was one idea pounded into his head: never be proud of being an animal-person.At first, it was something that François never questioned, and who would? As a child, you never question what your parents say.But when François turned six, he suddenly started questioning everything his parents had told him. It wasn’t anything noticeable, really, and it was small things. He never really paid attention to it, and for the most part he ignored it. He didn’t remember most of the moments where he questioned his family’s teachings, but a moment really stuck out in his mind . . .





	

**Author's Note:**

> this has not been proofread at all, i'm sorry

Ever since François was a little boy, there was one idea pounded into his head: never be proud of being an animal-person.

At first, it was something that François never questioned, and who would? As a child, you never question what your parents say. But when François turned six, he suddenly started questioning everything his parents had told him. It wasn’t anything noticeable, really, and it was small things. He never really paid attention to it, and for the most part he ignored it. He didn’t remember most of the moments where he questioned his family’s teachings, but a moment really stuck out in his mind . . .

\---

François quietly walked down the hallway of his school, lightly holding onto his books. His eyes were trained on the floor, and then he quietly entered the classroom and sat down. He placed his books neatly to one side of the desk, then rearranged his pencils and notebook. It was his first day of school, and he was in a mostly human school. His parents had paid a pretty penny for him to be able to attend this school, and he really hoped it was worth it.

He shuffled awkwardly in his seat, and looked up when a human approached him. The human had long blonde hair that was neatly smoothed back, and he was sucking on a sucker. François had no idea where he got it, but he was quietly jealous. The boy just continued to stare at him as he sucked on the sucker.

“. . . Can I help you?” François asked quietly, blinking up at the boy.

The boy pulled out the sucker. “My name is Yvon. You are?” he asked, before popping the sucker back in, making loud slurping noises around it. Some of his spit was running down the stick and onto his fingers. Suddenly, François wasn’t so jealous.

“Hello Yvon. My name is François,” he replied, trying to be as polite and as courteous as his parents had taught him to be. He was a little on edge, as well, because he knew if he messed up he’d be kicked out. Despite the fact acceptance in France for animal-people had grown, it by no means meant that if he messed up that he wouldn’t be kicked out of the school.

“You’re a dog-person, aren’t you?” Yvon asked around the sucker. “I mean, I know you’re an animal-person. Those big ears give you away.” Self-consciously, François touched one of his ears. “But are you a dog? Sometimes wolf-people and dog-people look the same.”

“. . . Yes, I am a dog-person,” François replied, awkwardly messing with his pencil, “but I rather not talk about that.”

Yvon cocked his head. “Why not?”

François opened his mouth, then quietly shut it, not really knowing what to say. Finally, he said, “I . . . my parents said I shouldn’t. That it’s something shameful.”

“I don’t think it’s shameful. My parents don’t think it is, either. Being an animal-person is cool, in my opinion. Your hearing’s better, you are more sensitive to people’s emotions. Everything’s about you is cool. I don’t know why being an animal-person is wrong to your parents,” Yvon said with a shrug, and then bit down on the sucker, causing François to jump back.

“It’s just . . . I . . .” he tried to find something to say, but he couldn’t. “Well, I don’t care what your parents say. My parents wouldn’t lie to me. If it’s shameful, it’s shameful. They wouldn’t lie.”

Yvon shrugged again. “You think so? That your parents never lie to you? Well, good for you then. But I know parents can lie. Anyone can lie. They can also just be plain wrong, too, and not know it. Just because they’re your parents doesn’t mean they’re right.”

François started at Yvon hard, and cocked his head to the side. He opened his mouth to say something, but then the teacher appeared and instructed everyone to sit down. Yvon went to the back of the room and sat down, and François was occasionally glancing back at him, constantly thinking about what he had said. It made him feel absolutely terrified.

_What if he was right?_ He thought, awkwardly chewing on his pencil.

\---

After lunch, they got an hour of play time. Because he was strange, and different from all the other humans in the school, no one really wanted to come up to him and play with him. Yvon eagerly came up to him though, and as soon as he approached him, François asked, “Yvon, what you said earlier, were you telling the truth?”

He blinked at François, and then slowly nodded. “Of course, I was. I don’t like people who lie. What, are you still thinking about what I said earlier?” When he didn’t respond, Yvon smiled. “You are! Well, I didn’t mean to scare you, but you need to be smart about stuff. Being smart about stuff helps you become a person and be yourself.”

“B-But . . .” he started to say, “if I can’t trust my parents, who can I trust? No one? Not even Ms. Abernath?”

“I didn’t say that, Franny,” Yvon said, giving him a toothy grin. François frowned, not really enjoying his new nickname. “All I said is that just because they’re your parents doesn’t mean they can’t lie to you. You can trust everyone, really, but you need to take the information they give you and evaluate it for yourself. Of course, facts are facts and you can’t change that, but people spread their opinions all the time and expect you to take it like fact. Like your parents saying animal-people are shameful. Listen to what they say but create your own opinion. It makes you educated, and it makes you human. That’s what my parents always say.”

François went quiet for a moment, and then asked, “Okay. But how do I know which opinions are good opinions and which ones aren’t?”

“Good opinions are ones that don’t harm others, generally. Saying being an animal-person is shameful is a bad opinion.”

He was quiet again, then he slowly nodded. “Okay. I think I get what you’re saying. Thank you.”

Yvon nodded. “It’s okay. If you want to talk about it, you can always ask me. My parents like me educating others,” he said, then held a hand out to François, “Now, let’s go play. I don’t think we have a lot of time left.”

François nodded, and took Yvon’s hand, pulling himself up to go play.

\---

He didn’t mention any of the things he learned from Yvon at dinner when his parents asked him about his day. He didn’t even say anything when his mother—Huguette—was brushing his hair after his bath and telling him about all the protests going on throughout the world. He sat there and listened as she called the other animal-people gross names, and say something along the lines of, “They just need to accept their situation and mold to the majority. It’s what we all need to do to survive. They’re clearly superior then we are.”

He didn’t say anything as his father—Charles—read over his homework a week and a half later, as his father exclaimed, “They’re a human school! How can they even dare suggest this?” before slamming it down.

François stared down at his worksheet, and at the colorful picture of a human and a cow-person holding hands. ‘Cynthia and Denis are the best of friends!’ it read, ‘And accept each other for their differences.’

François never saw that piece of paper again after he went to bed, and Ms. Abernath never mentioned it to him the next day. Yvon didn’t mention it to him either, or the giant bruise that had magically appeared on his right cheek.

Yvon didn’t mention a lot of things, François decided, if he knew he was uncomfortable about it to begin with. He was very thankful for that.

Of course, Yvon would always ask him, “Have you been forming your own opinions yet?” about once a week. François never really said anything in reply, so Yvon would add, “You know, you really should. Things aren’t going to get better until you do.”

François would go home with Yvon’s words in his head, with the full attention of doing so. But then Charles would raise his voice, Huguette would stare at him disapprovingly when he’d start to speak, and Jacqueline would look at him with fearful eyes, so he’d shut up.

When he’d go to school the next day, with sometimes a bruise blossoming on some part of his body, Yvon would just sigh and shake his head, gently grabbing his hand. “Things aren’t going to get better, Franny. You need to stand up for yourself, okay? But it’s okay if you’re not ready. You don’t have to be ready yet, I guess.”

He then would lead François to the bathroom, where he’d then be shown his new bruise. He’d raise his head and sigh again. “I’m sorry Franny. You should let me tell my parents about this. They could do something for you and your sister.”

When François shook his head no, Yvon would then drop it for that day. Of course, the next time it happened, he’d always bring it up again, much to François’ dismay.

\---

But finally, one day, it happened.

His father was going on a tirade about a co-worker, and how he was married to a fox-person, and just how disgusting it was, since the fox-person hadn’t adopted her husband’s culture. “It’s a disgrace!” Charles yelled, as Huguette was quietly folding clothes on the other side of the couch. Jacqueline and François were playing on the floor in front of them, both trying not to listen. “How could he be married to a woman who won’t accept his culture? Who is proud of being an animal-person? He should force her to act like a human and get rid of those gross animal-people behaviors before things get bad for him.”

Huguette nodded, and added, “You’re right. It’s wrong for humans and animal-people to be married in the first place, but it’s definitely more acceptable if she acted like humans. Otherwise, it’s just wrong and disgusting. They should—”

“Why is it wrong?” François spoke up, and didn’t even realize that he had until his parents wiped their heads onto him. He recoiled, his shoulders going up and he tried to refrain from pressing his ears against his head.

“ _What_ did you say?” Charles snapped.

“I-I just . . . Why is it wrong? We’re all the same. They’re the same. She just has a tail and better hearing and whiskers and different ears. There’s nothing different . . .” He swallowed hard, as his parents’ gaze pierced his will to argue.

“There is everything different!” Charles yelled, “Animal-people are _animals,_ working on instinct and that’s it! They are disgusting, unsanitary, and should be ashamed of who they are! It’s _shameful,_ François.”

“But _why?_ ” he asked. “If we were born like this, if we were created this way, it shouldn’t be wrong! I-it’s just love, father, too. Love isn’t disgusting. Why should we be shameful of who we are? Why should we feel like we must be like humans? Why can’t we just be ourselves?”

In that moment, François felt proud of himself. He stood up for his opinions like Yvon had said! He had finally formed his own opinions and stated what he thought! He smiled to himself, but as soon as he looked up, the smile was gone.

His mother and father were staring at him, with an enraged look in their eyes. He looked to Jacqueline, who was shaking and gripping tightly onto her teddy bear. Without a word, he stood up, and went to his room, Charles following suit.

He sat down on his bed, his shoulders hunched and tears gathering in his eyes as Charles gathered up all his toys. He set them outside, before he quietly turned to François. “Where did you learn this, François?”

He tensed, not wanting to rat out Yvon and get him in trouble, so he stuttered out, “I-I don’t k-know. I just t-thought it f-father. T-that’s it.”

François swallowed a whimper as he heard his father walked towards him. “You just _thought_ it?” Charles snarled, and when he saw François nod, he continued, “You know what we’ve taught you! You know what’s the truth! Tell me, François, what have we told you since you were able to speak?”

“T-that being an animal-person is shameful. A-acting on our animalistic behavior is wrong, t-that we should act like humans. E-everything about it is w-wrong, and the o-other personalities a-are the m-most shameful part of it all.”

“That’s right. Now, you know what I have to do to make sure you get these idiotic thoughts out of your head, yes?”

François nodded, and began to cry. It didn’t take very long; his father was very efficient and knew just how to hit him to get the desired effect.

François laid on the floor, tears drying on his face and blood trickling down his chin. He was sure he was bleeding elsewhere, and he was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow, but at that moment he had no desire to get up and take care of himself.

Charles stood over him, smoothing down his hair and adjusting his shirt. “François, you know I don’t like doing this to you. But you need to learn. Until you do, this is what’s going to happen to you.” Then, Charles walked out and shut the door.

François listened carefully for the sound of Charles locking the door. As soon as he heard the key being inserted, he began to cry again, and he covered his face. _Curse you, Yvon!_ He thought, knowing he was all to blame, _you were wrong! You were so wrong! Nothing got better, it got worse! Why did I ever listen to you?_

As he laid there and cried, he made a promise to himself that he’d never, ever, say something like that again. He just needed to accept it, he was going to be human, nothing more, nothing less.

\---

He was not let out of his room for two days. He missed school on Friday, and the half-day on Saturday. He didn’t get to eat a meal the whole time he was in there, either. He had half a loaf of bread hidden in his room just for occasions like that, but it was gone by Friday morning. Jacqueline tried to sneak crackers and other foods to him under the door, but she got caught and punished too, but less severely.

Eventually, he stopped being picky, and pulled the tub of white rice out of his backpack, eating it even though he absolutely despised rice. It filled him up, though, and that’s what he really cared about at that point.

He was not let out of his room until Sunday evening, and then he was not allowed to join them for dinner. His first full meal that he had received in two days and he was forced to eat by himself in his room. But even then, it wasn’t really a good meal. All he got was a hardboiled egg, some green beans, and a bread roll.

When he was done, he was only allowed thirty minutes of playtime, fifteen of television, ten for reading, and an hour to catch up on homework. He was not allowed to talk to his sister that day unless his parents were present. Even though he had a bathroom attached to his room, he was only allowed fifteen minutes to bath. When Huguette came in to comb his hair, she made his recite everything that had been pounded into his head since he was small.

He was forced to go to bed an hour earlier than usual. Huguette didn’t tuck him into bed or read him a story, Charles didn’t tell him goodnight, and Huguette didn’t even kiss him goodnight. She just stood in the doorway, watched him get into bed, get settled, and then all she did was close the door.

François couldn’t find it in himself that night to cry.

\---

As soon as Yvon laid eyes on him, he grabbed his hand and made an excuse to Ms. Abernath before dragging him to the bathroom. He locked them together in a stall, and asked, “Franny, what happened to you? You look awful! And you didn’t show up to school on Friday or Saturday!”

“I formed my own opinion,” he said, staring down hard at his hands, “And I got beat for it. Okay? I told them what I thought when my father was going on a tirade about a co-worker’s fox-person spouse. I told them what I thought and then I got punished, rightfully so, and was locked in my room for two days. I got let out last night. Okay? I did what you said, and things didn’t get better. So, I’m never doing that again.”

“Franny—”

“No, Yvon. I was not fed for two days, almost three. I was treated horribly. I’m not going to let it happen again. I’m not going to form an opinion again,” he said firmly.

“But . . . but Franny! You must form an opinion or they win! Don’t let your abusers force you to think whatever they want! You don’t have to talk about it, just _think_ differently!” he exclaimed, “Look at what they’ve done to you! They’ve hurt you! They’ve given you a black eye, a busted lip, bruises everywhere else! You can’t let them win!”

“I have too Yvon. I can’t live like that,” then, François grew angry, “They aren’t abusing me! They’re my parents, they can’t! You’re only six, you don’t know anything!”

Yvon sighed. “Franny, I know you think that. But it’s wrong. Anyone can abuse you, and that’s what they’re doing. Please don’t let them win.”

“Yvon, be quiet. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop trying to get involved in my life.”

He stared flabbergasted at François momentarily, and then sighed again. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t get involved anymore, okay? I’ll stop trying to get you to form your own opinion. Do whatever you want . . .” he paused, and then asked, “Shouldn’t you let out one of your other personalities for a while? So, you can go in and think? That’s what my parents say animal-people do when they’re stressed or something is wrong.” He was desperately trying to save this, to save the progress that had been made with François. He hoped that if he went in and thought about it for a while, he’d see that Yvon was right.

“I don’t have that,” François said with a sigh, “Those are shameful, so we don’t have those. I don’t plan on having on, either.”

“ _You don’t have other personalities?!_ ” Yvon exclaimed, staring hard at François. “Franny, that’s bad! Animal-people _need_ to have those! It helps them in—”

“It doesn’t help me,” François said, frowning at him. “I’d really like you to stop telling me what I need.”

They went quiet, neither of them knowing what to say. The door to the bathroom opened, and a voice called, “Yvon? François?”

They immediately recognized the voice as Leonard, a classmate of theirs. “Yes?” Yvon called, slightly opening the door to the stall.

“It’s time for class to start,” Leonard began, messing with his shirt, “I was sent to fetch you for Ms. Abernath. She said to hurry up.”

“Okay, Leonard, thank you, we’ll be there in a moment—” Yvon was cut off by François shoving his way out of the stall. “Franny . . .”

“It’s time to go back to class, Yvon, and we’re done talking about it anyways,” he said, before walking out passed Leonard.

\---

At recess, Yvon quietly approached François. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, holding out a tub of cookies. François looked down at them, then up at Yvon. “I didn’t mean to make you upset earlier. I’m sorry I freaked out about you not having other personalities or you not forming your own opinion. I really am. I don’t want you to be upset. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Hesitantly, François took the cookie. He took a bite and once he was done chewing, he said, “I guess it’s okay. If you don’t try to talk to me about any of it again. I won’t be alone. How could you ever think I’d be alone?”

“Well, Franny, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you don’t really have any other friends besides me,” Yvon pointed out, “And if you didn’t want to be my friend anymore, you’d have none. Then you’d have no one to talk too about what’s going on in your life.”

François huffed. “I guess you’re right. But I won’t talk to you about this all the time, because it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“Sure, it is, Franny.”

\---

When he turned eight, a small white pill appeared next to his water glass at breakfast. “What’s this?” he asked, looking up at Huguette, who was making Jacqueline’s food.

Huguette briefly glanced at him. “It’s for your mind.”

“My mind?” he asked curiously, cocking his head. “Why do I need to take a pill for my mind? What does it do?”

“You need to take it because it stunts the growth of brain, or at least the part of the brain that develops other personalities. It’s to help us be human,” she said, piling the food onto a plate and handing it to Jacqueline, who quietly sat down.

“. . . Is it safe?” he asked quietly, staring down at the pill with a little bit of fear. “I don’t want to take it if it’s unsafe.”

“François,” his mother said with a tsk. “It’s safe. Your father and I have been taking it for years.”

“No, you haven’t,” François said without thinking, “You locked them up and they just withered away. That’s how you got rid of yours—”

“Just take the pill, François!” she snapped, causing him to jerk back and his ears press against his head momentarily, before he put the pill in his mouth and swallowed a mouthful of water. Then he quietly sat down and ate his breakfast.

The first day, nothing really happened. He felt normal all day, and for the most part he forgot about it. But then, the pill appeared again by his glass. He sat down without a word, and took the pill. This became a reoccurring thing, every morning he would have to take the pill, and eventually it got to him.

It made him sick, it made him nauseous, it made him drowsy, it made him dizzy, but the thing that he hated the most was the fact it gave him a nasty migraine every single day. It’d start right around the time he got to school, and it would not pass until about thirty minutes until he had to take the pill again the next morning. At one point, he felt like crying, and just hiding the pills and throwing them down the toilet, but he knew he’d get caught. Instead, he suffered through it, and suffered through everything else, even the almost daily bloody noses and occasional blacking outs.

He expressed this to his parents, and his parents just told him to not worry about it, so he didn’t. Meanwhile, things were getting worse with Yvon. When he told him about the pill, Yvon freaked out and told him to stop taking it. This caused them to get into another argument, and not speak to each other for a week. Then, whenever he’d go over to Yvon’s house after school to play, he’d always try to tell his parents about the pill despite what François said. Whenever he did that, François would immediately call his parents and go home. He didn’t want to talk about that with him.

There was a lot of things he didn’t want to talk to Yvon about, he decided.

\---

Two years had passed after he had started taking that little white pill. The side effects of the pill had started to wear off, and while he still got migraines they weren’t as bad anymore. He and Yvon were still friends, but he had learned to not talk to François about anything bad regarding his parents or try to change his opinion on animal-people. Even though François had become obedient, stopped thinking for himself, and began to spout the same ideals his parents had, the pain didn’t stop. He’d still come to school with a busted lip or a black eye or more commonly, bruises all over his body. Conforming to his parent’s belief system didn’t help him.

_It just won’t ever stop._

He sat with his sister on a bench, staring out into the garden. They were at a friend of the family’s party, and sitting behind their mansion as the party went on inside. Huguette and Charles never really trusted anyone to babysit their children, so they brought them along and told them to go behave outside. The hosts didn’t have any children of their own, and their scrunched up faces at the sight of François and Jacqueline showed that no other children were going to be here, either.

Since their host had also looked at them very strictly as they went into the garden, they decided the only thing that they could possibly do was sit and wait for the night to be over.

“What have you been learning in school Lynn?” François asked, holding his stomach and trying to ignore the fact he was starving. “Anything interesting?”

She shrugged. “Not really. It’s all boring stuff. I don’t think there’s one interesting thing I’ve learned this year . . .” she mumbled, drawing off as her stomach growled loudly.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry. I wish you could skip a year ahead so you could learn something new.”

She just nodded, and her eyebrows furrowed together. “François . . . I’m hungry. Can we please try to sneak inside and get some food? I think I’m going to disappear into nothingness if I don’t.”

François shook his head. “No, if we do that we’ll get in trouble. They didn’t even enjoy seeing us for a split second.”

“Well . . .” Jacqueline drew off, looking at the garden. “I did hear them tell mum and dad that they a section of their garden where they have an apple tree and are growing other things. Maybe we can go steal some food from there? They’ll never know.”

François looked at his sister, then towards the windows, where they were casting long golden light along the ground. He found their parents, and was relieved to see that they had their backs to them. No one in that room even seemed to acknowledge the fact that there were two children in the garden.

He turned back to Jacqueline. “They aren’t paying attention to us. So, I guess it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if we went and got some food . . .” before he even finished, Jacqueline was taking off into the garden. “Jacqueline!” he shouted, darting off after her.

He heard her laugh, and instantly a giant ball of fear gathered up in his stomach. She was young, she was still optimistic, she had not learned to fear their parents and the fact that even though they weren’t there, that they were still as dangerous as if they were standing next to them. He continued to follow her until they got to a gate, and he forcibly pulled out the piece of metal keeping the gates shut, letting his sister go in before he followed and quietly shut the gate.

When he turned around, Jacqueline was gone again. “Lynn!” he snapped, looking around for her.

“I’m over here François!” she yelled, moving out a little bit from her hiding place and waving him over. “There’s an apple tree over here!”

His ears pricked up at that, and he eagerly walked over to her, wondering if she was telling the truth. Sure enough, as he walked around the giant shrubbery, and there was a big apple tree surrounded by bushes. The apples were green, and François licked his lips eagerly.

It was dark, so they really couldn’t tell the good apples from the bad ones, and that made François hesitate. “Jacqueline, we really shouldn’t be eating these if we can’t tell which ones are bruised . . .”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Let me get up on your shoulders and then I’ll pick them, feel them with my hands, before I hand them to you. I’ll get as much as I can reach, okay?” she said, looking up at him with their trademark blue eyes.

Not really seeing any other option, he sighed and hefted her onto his shoulders. It didn’t take them very long to gather a good number of apples, and once François’ arms couldn’t take it anymore, he lowered to the ground and had her climb off.

Then they sat there, carefully expecting every apple with their fingers before they ate it. The apples were sweet and juicy, they were so good they were sloppy and let the juice pour down their chins, dribbling all over their fingers. They cleaned off the apples quickly, and licked their fingers clean, before wiping their chins with their sleeves. They then buried the apple cores in the ground around the apple tree, hoping that the hosts wouldn’t notice the moved ground. Then, they got up and began to search the garden some more. They found an apricot tree, and picked off some of those, but they weren’t ripe. They still ate them anyways, despite their sour taste.

They found a peach tree, and ate the peaches with more fervor then with the apples. The last tree they found was an orange tree, and they were more careful with how many they picked, since they were growing full and didn’t want to waste any. They buried the remaining portions of the other fruits like they had with the apple cores.

François sat back, eyes all hazy as he looked up at the night sky. He was incredibly full, and he felt like he wouldn’t need to eat for another two days. He turned his gaze downward to Jacqueline. “Thank you for your idea,” he said quietly.

She smiled back at him, looking in a daze as well. “I told you it was going to be all okay. We just needed to be a little cunning,” she said, before slowly trying to stand up. “But we should probably go now. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be before the party’s over, but I think we’ve already worn out our welcome in this part of the garden.” She held a hand out to him, and he sighed, before taking it.

She pulled him up, and then they quietly walked out of the garden. François made sure that the door was firmly shut before they went on. The house slowly came into view, with its giant Victorian-style windows looming in the distance, and panic fell over them when they realized that people were slowly flowing out of the mansion.

They looked at each other, before they ran towards the house, desperately trying to get there before their parents came out, looking for them.

François wanted to collapse to the ground and cry when he saw Charles and Huguette’s dark figures appeared in the garden, with the hosts’ figures still illuminated by the doorway. “François! Jacqueline!” their father snapped, his blue eyes piercing through the darkness.

François stopped, not wanting to move any further. Jacqueline stopped and turned to him, grabbing his hand. “Come _on_ ,” she said desperately, “We’ll get into even more trouble if we don’t come to them immediately! Besides, they won’t punish us in front of them! Come _on_.”

He knew Jacqueline was wrong. But, he followed her anyways, and tried to be optimistic.

He kept his eyes down, and when he heard his sister’s footsteps slow down, he knew that whatever was going to happen wasn’t going to be good, even with the hosts standing behind their parents.

He looked up at Huguette, and then to Charles. As his and Jacqueline’s faces became illuminated by the light streaming through the windows, Charles noticed the sheen to their face and became angered. Instead of reaching for Jacqueline, who was closer, he grabbed François by the arm.

François bit back a yelp as his father dragged him forward, and got in his face. “I told you to keep your sister under control and to _not_ wander into the garden,” he snapped, keeping his voice low as Huguette turned to distract their hosts, not wanting them to see Charles berate their son.

Fearfully, François looked at the ground, and stuttered out, “I-I’m sorry, father, w-we were just hungry and knew you would be upset if w-we went inside to get s-some food. P-please, I’m sorry, w-we didn’t do anything b-bad to the trees—”

“You were _hungry?_ ” he snapped. “That doesn’t excuse you to go and steal food from the trees! You wait it out, we would have given you food! But now since you’ve disobeyed us, no food for you tomorrow at _all._ ”

“I-I’m sorry, father,” was all he could say, “I-I am. B-but I-I promise you that t-they won’t notice. Please don’t punish Jacqueline, i-it was all my fault.”

Jacqueline opened her mouth to protest, to defend her brother and to make sure that they both got punished equally, but once glance from François silenced her.

Charles stopped, and was thoughtful for a moment, before he said resolutely, “No. Neither of you get food, and once we go home tomorrow, you’re not allowed out of your rooms either.”

François bowed his head, knowing there was nothing else he could say. If he tried to protest, tried to reason with him, it’d just make his punishment worse. He’d probably have to end up sleeping out in the garden, if Charles was feeling particularly cruel that night. He could be forced to do something else much worse too . . . or something his father’s never even done to him, which François logically knew wasn’t possible, but as soon as the thought passed through his mind, he couldn’t get it away.

François shivered at the thought of what crazy new thing his father could think of.

Jacqueline’s eyes filled with tears, and she tried to not cry as Charles stood up, smiled, and put a hand on the small of their backs, guiding them towards the house, where Huguette was still distracting the hosts.

Jacqueline quickly dried her tears as the hosts turned, and the four of them put on the façade of a nice, happy family. François and Jacqueline smiled, but remained quiet as their parents tried to woo the hosts of the party. Charles smiled and talked to the wife, while Huguette talked to the husband. Occasionally, they’d both laugh inauthentically, and Huguette would bat her eyelashes at the husband while Charles would lean into the wife, whispering to her. Jacqueline and François could only just sit there and listen awkwardly, knowing that if they tried to escape it’d just enrage their parents more.

François eventually brought his eyes up from the ground, and glanced at his dad. The wife was suddenly taking interest in him, it seemed, because she was leaning closer and smiling at him, her eyes glowing in the low light.

He then glanced to his mum, and immediately jerked his eyes back down when he saw the man stroking his mum’s arm, and leaning in close to her. It was weird, and it felt inappropriate to look at, and he hoped that their parents would allow them to go inside before anything escalated.

He didn’t know how much longer they stood there, before the host asked, “Shouldn’t you be putting your children to bed?”

Huguette and Charles went quiet. “Yes, I agree with my husband,” the hostess said, “put them to bed in the spare rooms downstairs before we continue our . . . conversation.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Charles said, turning to Huguette. “Would you like to put them both to bed?”

She just nodded, before gently took François and Jacqueline’s hands, pulling them inside. He was surprised by it, because it was very rare for her to touch them with such consideration and kindness.

As soon as they were inside away from the hosts, her grip on their hands tightened, and François realized it was all a part of a ruse. He deflated, bowing his head, and stood out in the hallway as Huguette took Jacqueline into a room. She wasn’t in there very long, before she came out and grabbed François, taking him into the room opposite of Jacqueline’s.

He had no clothes to change into, so he just took off his jacket and trousers, so he was in his underwear and dress shirt, before climbing into the bed.

She didn’t tuck him in, and waited for him to get situated, before she looked hard into his eyes. “Do not leave this room. Do not go and talk to your sister. Go to bed, nothing else. You are lucky enough that they’re letting you stay in a guest room, otherwise you would be outside. In the morning, wait until we come and get you. If we find out you have left this room, you’ll be punished more severely then you already will be when you get home. Got it?”

François nodded, lowering himself down under the covers until half his face was covered by it. She smiled at him, but it wasn’t one you could describe as kindness. All François felt from it was some form of hatred.

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He forced himself to lay there and accept it. “You know, you can be a smart boy when you want too. You just need to get rid of that foolish animal instinct of yours and then you’d be perfect, François. The faster you learn that, the better off you’ll be,” she said, and then in a rare act that surprised him, she added, “Goodnight. I love you very much.”

He fought the urge to cover his face, and murmured, “I-I love you too, mum.” Hearing her say it was so foreign to him, he wanted to revolt against it and yell at her, ask her what was wrong with her . . .

But then she gently placed a hand on his head, and he leaned into her hand, the slight touch she’s given him filling up a void he didn’t even realize was there.

Then, her hand pulled away, and François wanted to reach out, and grab it tightly to prevent her from leaving. So instead he clenched his shirt, and watched as she walked to the door. Then she quietly slipped out, and shut the door.

François laid awake that night, staring at the ceiling. He wondered why Huguette had shown him such kindness and love when every other time before she had regarded him with cold indifference? Why tonight, of all nights?

He silently hoped that after tonight, that this would continue. That slowly his parents would begin to love him, and show him the same love that he’d watch Yvon receive from his parents? He knew it was farfetched, and he’d have better luck receiving love from the hosts, but he couldn’t help but hope . . .

Sounds soon drifted down from upstairs, but he ignored that, and rolled over, looking at the small clock on the bedside table. It was midnight, he realized, and he should be getting to bed soon, before he got into some more trouble.

He closed his eyes with a sigh, and went to sleep.

\---

He woke up the next morning, and yawned. His ears twitched, and he rolled over, snuggling into the sheets. His eyes slightly opened, and he looked at the time. It was noon, and he sighed, burying his face under the sheets again. His hair was all matted to the sides of his face, and he raised a hand up to slowly peel it off his cheeks.

He closed his eyes, and laid there for a long, long time, before he got up and walked into the attached bathroom. He drank some water from the faucet, and looked up at his reflection. His reflection stared back at him, looking as tired as he looked. Even though there was a lightness to his step, he felt drained and like absolute shit. He wanted to crawl back into the bed, and go to sleep some more . . . it couldn’t hurt, could it?

_Don’t go back to bed! If you go back to bed, and your parents come in, and they see you’re not ready, you’ll be punished even worse! Get **up** and **stay** up!_

He stood up straight, ears pointed to the sky and then he quickly got out of his clothes to take a bath, hoping he’d be ready in time for his parents to come and get him.

He turned on the faucet, and once it got filled to a significant amount he got in. He made quick work of scrubbing his skin clean, and then he looked around for a shampoo bottle. There was a tiny bottle of _something_ next to where he had gotten the soap, and when he opened the lid to smell it, it smelled just like shampoo. He just hoped it was and it wasn’t something the hosts didn’t want to be used . . . but again why would they have it in the spare bedroom if they didn’t want it to be used?

François decided the risk was worth taking and shrugged it off, before squirting a good amount in his hand. He set the bottle back next to the soap, and then began to thoroughly lather up his hair, before he sank beneath the water, washing his hair out.

He brought himself up, and laid quietly in the water for a bit, before fear got the best of him and he pulled the plug.

He quickly dried off, and found a spare comb under the sink. But first he began to dry his hair with a towel, twisting the towel around it and trying to ring out as much water as possible. Once he got it as dry as he could, he dragged the comb through his hair.

He then put the comb back and put the towel in the dirty clothes bin, before walking back into the bedroom, then got dressed. He made sure he looked presentable, and then he remade the bed, so it looked like he was never even there.

François sat down on the bed, watching the door and listening carefully for their parents’ footsteps. He wanted to go to the next room over and talk to Jacqueline, to see if she was ready to go, but he knew if he did he’d get in major trouble.

So, he sat there, and stared at the door. As time went on, his eyes drew off and he looked around the room. Thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to look around if he left everything the way he found it, he got up and began to look around.

There wasn’t really anything of interest in the room, but it kept him occupied, so he didn’t care.

He looked at the clock occasionally. An hour passed, then two, and then three. As an hour passed by, François grew more and more worried that they had forgotten about him . . . if they had forgotten about him, and then the hosts found out he was still here, he didn’t know what would happen to him . . .

Another hour passed before he heard footsteps approaching the room. Terror ran over him, the footsteps sounded lighter, just the sound didn’t sound like Charles or Huguette approaching. It sounded like someone else . . .

The door opened, and François visibly relaxed when he saw Huguette standing in the doorway. He went to smile, because for once he was genuinely pleased to see her, but the look on her face evaporated any feeling of happiness he had gathered.

“Come on François,” she said, her voice gravely and she coughed into her elbow. “We’re going home.”

He just nodded and quietly walked up to her, bowing his head. Jacqueline was standing out in the hallway, and she immediately took his hand when he came out. They walked silently through the house, following their mother passed the dining room, where the hosts were eating dinner and ignoring them.

François silently wondered what happened, but knew that if he said anything he’d probably get backhanded. They walked outside, where Charles was sitting in the car, waiting impatiently for them. They got into the back, and on the way home their parents argued incessantly. François couldn’t really make out what was wrong, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted too. All their parents’ issues always seemed so weird and complicated to him.

Neither Jacqueline nor François dared to speak to one another, not even when they got home. As soon as they got inside the house, they immediately went to their rooms as their parents argued. François focused on homework, and ignored their arguing getting louder and louder.

Eventually, the arguing stopped, and then Huguette opened the door to his room. She didn’t say anything, just stared at him and then looked around the room, before she closed the door again and locked it.

_And so_ , François thought as he closed his notebook, _begins the punishment._

\---

It was a couple of months after François’ birthday when he returned home to see no one else was home . . . or at least, that’s what he thought. When he walked past Jacqueline’s room, he heard quiet rustling noises and he quickly backtracked and looked in to see her packing. “Lynn?” he called, staring at her with surprise. “What are you doing?”

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with fear. She looked past him, and then hurried up, pulling him into her room and closing the door. She didn’t answer him, she instead asked, “No one else is home with you, right François!?”

François stared at her hard, and nodded. “Yes, no one else came home. But Jacqueline, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m leaving.”

“Leaving!? Why?!”

“Because I can’t _take_ this anymore François. I can’t stand the constant abuse! I have no idea how you can tolerate it and then sit here and ask me as if you’re confused as to why I’d even think about leaving!”

“B-but . . .” he stuttered, slightly ignoring what she had to say, “They’re our parents? They’re not abusing us? It’s just punishment, Jacqueline. I-I don’t . . . I don’t know why you’re leaving! Where will you go? You have no money!”

“Because they won’t let either of us get a job! Don’t you think that if they had we both would have left by now? They did it so they continue to abuse us! They’ve trapped us François! Get your head out of your ass, of course they’re abusing us! No one who is loved by their parents is treated like this,” she said, and then looked down at her bag. “I have a boyfriend who I’m going to go live with, if you’re so worried about it.”

He sat there, flabbergasted. “J-Jacqueline, you can’t leave me. I-I can’t be alone with them!”

She stared at him sadly. “I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here anymore. I need to go before I go insane.”

He was starting to shake, and he reached out for her hand. “C-can you at least tell me where he lives? S-so I can come in visit you?”

She was quiet. “No, François. You might tell our parents and I can’t have that. I’m a minor, they can request that I come home. Until they give up searching for me, I can’t. But I promise I’ll find some way to let you know where I am once they stop searching, okay?” she said, gently taking his head.

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t. “O-Okay . . . P-please stay safe, okay?” he asked quietly. She nodded, and then kissed his cheek, whispering goodbye, before she threw her bags out the window and jumped after them. François stood by her window, and he realized with a start that there was a strange car parked there.

_Must be her boyfriend’s_ , he thought, as he watched her get in and drive away.

\---

François braced himself the whole night for the moment his parents came home. He knew as soon as they realized that Jacqueline was gone that he’d be punished for it, and most likely locked in his room or hit.

They didn’t come home until François was asleep, and they were very quiet at first, since they were checking on Jacqueline and François to make sure they were in bed. When they realized that she was gone, they threw open his door. Charles ran in, and grabbed François by his shirt, yanking him out of bed.

“Where is your sister?” Charles demanded, moving his hand to François hair.

Confused and scared, he called out, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! S-she was here when I-I got home!”

“Liar!” his father snarled, slamming him down onto the floor, and he began to kick him. François cried and curled up into a ball as Huguette watched the exchange. He was kicked and stomped on for a long time, his father asking him every now and again where Jacqueline was, which would cause him to reply in a strangled voice that he didn’t know.

Finally, Charles had enough, and stepped back. “If you won’t fucking tell us where she is, then we’ll fucking let you stay in here and think about telling us,” he snapped, before they retreated and locked the door.

François laid on the floor as a giant bloody mess, and cried.

\---

Jacqueline had been gone for two months, and François was keeping her secret still. He thought that things couldn’t get any worse, but it did.

Yvon, recently, had gotten a girlfriend named Katrina. She was very sweet from the outside, and François liked her. She was always so nice to him too, he couldn’t _help_ but like her . . .

That was until he watched her strike Yvon.

As soon as he saw her hand connect with his cheek, he darted in and grabbed Katrina, pushing her away and shoving her hard. “Don’t you dare touch him!” he yelled, clenching his fists and going to strike Katrina. “How dare you fucking abuse him!”

Katrina stood her ground, and yelled back, “He deserved it! He refused to take me to the cinema!”

“Him refusing to take you to the cinema doesn’t warrant you to fucking strike him you fucking—” François yelled, moving to punch her in the nose when Yvon stood up, grabbing his hand. François whipped on Yvon. “Let me go!” he shouted, and while he was distracted Katrina took her leave, disappearing around the corner of Yvon’s house towards her car.

“No! I won’t let you hurt her!” Yvon snapped, grabbing François’ wrists and bending them backwards, making him fall to the ground.

François struggled to sit up, but he couldn’t because Yvon was planted firmly on his chest. “Let me go! She’s abusing you, Yvon! How can you sit here and defend her? How can you stop me from making her pay for what she’s done to you!”

“This is the only time she’s hit me Franny! Stop being an asshole!”

“Well, even if this is the first time that doesn’t mean she won’t do it again! Stop it before it gets even fucking worse, Yvon! Don’t be in denial about this!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” Yvon yelled back, his long blond hair falling over his eyes. “The person that hasn’t even come to terms with the fact that his parents are abusing him and brainwashing him into thinking that being an animal-person is shameful! That’s the pot calling the kettle black!”

François stopped struggling. He laid down on the ground, and stared up at Yvon. Yvon’s breathing was uneven, and when he realized that he wasn’t struggling anymore, he got off him.

François sat up. “What my parents are doing to me is not at all the same as what Katrina is doing to you. I don’t even want to hear that again.”

“Fine, then I don’t want you to ever talk about Katrina like that again.”

“You know that I can’t do that Yvon.”

“Then I guess we can’t be friends anymore, can we?”

François went quiet. “I guess not,” he said quietly.

\---

He and Yvon no longer talked. They were no longer friends. It saddened him greatly, but he couldn’t be friends with someone who sat there and suffered abuse. How could someone sit there and take that? Do humans really have no sense of self-preservation? How can you ignore facts that are right in front of your face?

\---

François was sitting home alone one Sunday afternoon, when he got bored and turned on the TV. He flipped around for a bit, until he landed on a race. He frowned, and put the remote down, watching it thoughtfully. He didn’t have much idea of what was going on, but he enjoyed it thoroughly and became enraptured by it. There were a couple of crashes here and there, but nothing to serious.

Every time there was a crash, though, he nearly jumped out of his skin, and he wondered about the driver’s safety, but as soon as they said that he was okay he became quietly focused on it.

To say the least, he really enjoyed watching it—or Formula One, as the commentator called it—and he was silently hoping that there’d be another race the next weekend.

As the race ended, he began to pick up all his stuff and put it back in his room, not really paying attention to what was going on.

But then, he noticed something rapidly moving across the screen, and he looked up to see a cat-person standing on the podium, head raised high and a bright smile on his face, a trophy in his hands. Next to him was a dog-person, who’s tail was wagging wildly as a laurel wreath was placed around his neck. He must have gotten second place . . .

François fell to his knees in front of the TV, stunned by the fact that the top two people were animal-people and that the crowd was _applauding_ them. They were both acting completely natural, completely animalistic with the movements of their tails, and the crowd was _cheering_ for them. He had always thought animal-people were hated, and how people always wanted them to conform to the way they acted. But here were two animal-people acting completely natural, and no one even care.

He wanted to cry. Maybe Yvon had been right all these years, and his parents had been wrong? Here was cold hard truth—to him at least—that people didn’t care about what animal-people did or how they acted! If his parents were right, and that it was shameful, then . . . then these people wouldn’t be cheered on by the crowd, then, would they?

\---

After mentioning his passion for motor racing, Charles found him a car to drive. It wasn’t a very good one, but it was a car no less.

He was grateful for it, and would always look fondly back on those racing days, but the thing he was most grateful for was the fact he got to meet the love of his life.

Jackie Stewart.

It wasn’t in any way spontaneous or one of those Hollywood moments, but it was nice and simple . . . or at least to him it was.

They had run into each other occasionally, and had only exchanged a couple of words, never anything more then, “Good race,” or “How are you?” followed by quick responses. It was never anything to make François swoon, just stare at a little lovingly before moving on.

It wasn’t until his first win did Jackie take notice. He approached François while he was sitting by himself near the track, and started off by saying, “You did well tonight . . . ah . . . is it François?”

He jumped, and looked up at Jackie, before nodding rapidly. “Y-yeah, it is. You must be Jackie. Oh, and ah, thank you,” he added awkwardly as Jackie sat down.

“No problem lad,” he said, smiling at him. “I know we’ve ran into each other before, and I have to apologize that I haven’t talked to you sooner.”

“Oh, it’s okay. It’s not unusual for people to take a while to talk to me, or not at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t really anything to do with you. It was all really to do with me . . .”

François turned towards him, and cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well . . . would it be alright if I took you out for a drink? To get to know you?”

François blushed, his face turning beat red. “Ah . . . yeah, of course. I’d love too.”

Jackie smiled brightly. “Excellent! Ah, you can pick the pub if you want. Anywhere you want to go, I can take you.”

He thought for a moment, looking awkwardly at Jackie before suggesting, “Grasley’s fine?”

“Sounds splendid to me.”

\---

They had been dating for about six months when one night, Jackie suddenly looked dreamily up at François and asked, “Move in with me?”

François went quiet, his eyes slowly widening even as Jackie continued to stare at him lovingly. “I . . .” he began, and then he thought about his parents, about how the punishments were getting worse because of how much time he spent with Jackie. “Yes. Please, I’d love it.”

Jackie’s eyes brightened and he hugged François tightly. “This is great! I want you to move in as soon as possible, okay? Pack up some of your stuff and I’ll pick you up tomorrow night!”

François couldn’t find any words, he just nodded. Jackie continued to babble endlessly the rest of the night about him moving in, but all François could think about was how he’d tell his parents.

The next day, he began to pack so he’d be ready to go when Jackie picked him up at six. At first, his parents weren’t very interested in what he was doing, then slowly Huguette got concerned. “François?” she called, causing him to jump. “What are you doing?”

“O-oh . . . I’m, ah, I’m packing so I can move in with my boyfriend . . .”

“Oh, really? Do we get to meet him or learn his full name tonight then?” she asked, staring at him curiously.

“Um . . . I guess so?”

“Well, what’s his name?”

“Ah . . . Jackie Stewart.”

His mother’s jaw dropped, and she asked, “The Jackie Stewart that fights for animal-people rights?”

“Y-yes . . .” he stuttered, shrinking down a bit.

“No,” she said firmly, glaring at him. “You’re not moving in with him, you got it? You’re staying right here. Now, go and call him now.”

“M-mum . . .” he began, but then Huguette grabbed his arm tightly.

“ _Now_ François,” she snapped, forcing him out to the kitchen. She watched as she dialed Jackie, her arms crossed.

Jackie picked up. “Hello?”

“H-hi Jackie . . . i-it’s me.”

“François! How are you? I’ll be over in a couple of hours to pick you up—”

“A-about that Jackie . . . I can’t move in with you.”

“What? Why?”

“I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“François . . . is your mum in the room?”

“Y-yes . . .” he replied hesitantly.

“Okay. I’m guessing she’s forcing you to do this?”

“Y-yes . . .”

“Alright . . . François, I’m going to come pick you up at midnight tonight. No ifs ands or butts, I’m going to park underneath your window. You’ll throw all your bags out to me, and then you’re going to jump out and we’re going to go, okay? I’m going to get you out of there no matter what she says. You’re an adult, they can’t keep you there.”

“O-okay . . .”

“I love you François, don’t forget it.”

François just sniffed, and hung up.

Later that night, he laid awake. His parents took his word when he said that he had unpacked, just took a momentary sweep around the room, and didn’t bother checking the closet. He watched the clock tick by slowly, and he just quietly sat on the bed, knowing that if he began to pace his parents would hear.

Finally, the clock ticked midnight and he looked out the window to see a car roll up beneath it, with its headlights off. He quietly opened the window, and then began to toss his bags down to Jackie, who quickly put them in the boot.

Then, he went to climb out the window and jump down to the ground below, when his door was flung open.

Charles ran in, growling at him and reaching out for his arms. François screamed and jerked himself backwards, but Charles grabbed him and tried to drag him inside. François knew that if he let his father drag him inside, he would be done for.

So, he viciously headbutted Charles, knocking him onto his ass. Then he quickly climbed out the window and jumped down.

He barked loudly as one of his ankles snapped, and he began to cry, the pain being immense. Jackie ran to him, and dragged him up, shoving him into the passenger’s seat before running around to the driver’s side, speeding away.

François struggled to sit up, and through his tear filled eyes, he watched as one by one the lights turned on in the house before Huguette launched herself out of the front door, just in time to see their tail lights disappear.

For the first time in a long, long time, he felt free.


End file.
